most of all, Nelson Trulane remembered
the moment of his awakening. The moment that he had realized the
true extent of his horrible loss.
The only link between that moment and now was
the letter he held in his trembling hands. Fear blossomed in
Nelson's gut like the dark bloom of some poisonous flower the
instant he saw the handwriting on the envelope. It was Tanya's
feminine script, there was no mistaking that. He ripped open the
envelope like a madman and unfolded the message within. The words
assaulted his fragile, ill-balanced psyche, threatening to destroy
the composure he had fought to maintain throughout that awful
ordeal.
LEAVE TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A PLAIN
ENVELOPE UNDERNEATH THE BANDSTAND AT CENTENNIAL PARK AT EIGHT
O'CLOCK PM, THURSDAY NIGHT. X MARKS THE SPOT. PLAY IT BY THE BOOK
AND WITH NO POLICE, OR YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR PRECIOUS BUDDY
AGAIN.
It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be.
He had been expecting the ransom note from Tanya for a number of
days now.
Nelson checked the postmark. The letter had
been mailed the previous day and from right there in Nashville.
Nelson thought that was pretty funny, since the police assumed that
Tanya had left the state with Buddy. That was the most common modus
operandi for a kidnapper. But, then, Tanya was too twisted to
adhere to the ways of the common criminal.
Nelson stared at the phone. He debated on
whether or not he should call the authorities, then thought better
of it and left the house. He climbed into his car and drove across
town to the bank. He withdrew ten thousand dollars in hundred
dollar bills from his savings account, then drove down the busy
thoroughfare of West End Avenue. Centennial Park stretched to the
right with its stately gardens and majestic replica of the Greek
Parthenon.
He found a parking spot across the street
from the park and fed some change into the meter. Then he took a
window booth in a little diner that catered to the faculty and
students of nearby Vanderbilt University. The place was familiar to
Nelson; he had eaten there many times before. In the past fifteen
years he had made the transition from student to teacher at the
college, and had feasted on the restaurant's greasy cheeseburgers
and limp french fries during many a lunchtime, over both text books
and exam papers. But that life of academic stability seemed to be
only a sour memory now. It was ironic that Tanya had picked such a
spot for the transaction. But, then, Tanya knew exactly what she
was doing choosing Centennial Park. She wanted to make this
experience as painful and humiliating as she possibly could.
It was late afternoon when he ordered coffee
and a ham sandwich, and settled in for the long wait. He stared out
the window at the park, at the young people who jogged along its
picturesque walkways and sat beneath the shade of newly budded
trees, studying their books and one another. Spring was supposed to
be a time for feelings of love, not hatred. It had been that way
for Nelson Trulane. He had met his wife, Angela, at the park during
the height of a Southern spring. And, incidentally, so had he met
Tanya Wright.
Hours passed and the bright sunlight faded
into the black cover of night. He checked his watch. The hour was
fast approaching eight. He left his fifth cup ofcoffee unfinished
and walked out into the darkness. Calmly, Nelson crossed the street
and ducked into the leafy shadows of Centennial Park. He kept close
to the trees, avoiding the lighted walkways. It took him only a
minute to reach the immaculate white bandstand. It was a huge,
circular structure typical of the antebellum architecture of that
area. The covered stage stood in a grove of blossoming magnolia
trees, away from the reach of the nearest streetlamp.
Nelson approached the bandstand. He began to
walk around its enclosed base. The note had said to leave the money
beneath the platform, yet he could find no way to do so. The wood
skirting around the sturdy floor gave no access to the
the moment of his awakening. The moment that he had realized the
true extent of his horrible loss.
The only link between that moment and now was
the letter he held in his trembling hands. Fear blossomed in
Nelson's gut like the dark bloom of some poisonous flower the
instant he saw the handwriting on the envelope. It was Tanya's
feminine script, there was no mistaking that. He ripped open the
envelope like a madman and unfolded the message within. The words
assaulted his fragile, ill-balanced psyche, threatening to destroy
the composure he had fought to maintain throughout that awful
ordeal.
LEAVE TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN A PLAIN
ENVELOPE UNDERNEATH THE BANDSTAND AT CENTENNIAL PARK AT EIGHT
O'CLOCK PM, THURSDAY NIGHT. X MARKS THE SPOT. PLAY IT BY THE BOOK
AND WITH NO POLICE, OR YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR PRECIOUS BUDDY
AGAIN.
It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be.
He had been expecting the ransom note from Tanya for a number of
days now.
Nelson checked the postmark. The letter had
been mailed the previous day and from right there in Nashville.
Nelson thought that was pretty funny, since the police assumed that
Tanya had left the state with Buddy. That was the most common modus
operandi for a kidnapper. But, then, Tanya was too twisted to
adhere to the ways of the common criminal.
Nelson stared at the phone. He debated on
whether or not he should call the authorities, then thought better
of it and left the house. He climbed into his car and drove across
town to the bank. He withdrew ten thousand dollars in hundred
dollar bills from his savings account, then drove down the busy
thoroughfare of West End Avenue. Centennial Park stretched to the
right with its stately gardens and majestic replica of the Greek
Parthenon.
He found a parking spot across the street
from the park and fed some change into the meter. Then he took a
window booth in a little diner that catered to the faculty and
students of nearby Vanderbilt University. The place was familiar to
Nelson; he had eaten there many times before. In the past fifteen
years he had made the transition from student to teacher at the
college, and had feasted on the restaurant's greasy cheeseburgers
and limp french fries during many a lunchtime, over both text books
and exam papers. But that life of academic stability seemed to be
only a sour memory now. It was ironic that Tanya had picked such a
spot for the transaction. But, then, Tanya knew exactly what she
was doing choosing Centennial Park. She wanted to make this
experience as painful and humiliating as she possibly could.
It was late afternoon when he ordered coffee
and a ham sandwich, and settled in for the long wait. He stared out
the window at the park, at the young people who jogged along its
picturesque walkways and sat beneath the shade of newly budded
trees, studying their books and one another. Spring was supposed to
be a time for feelings of love, not hatred. It had been that way
for Nelson Trulane. He had met his wife, Angela, at the park during
the height of a Southern spring. And, incidentally, so had he met
Tanya Wright.
Hours passed and the bright sunlight faded
into the black cover of night. He checked his watch. The hour was
fast approaching eight. He left his fifth cup ofcoffee unfinished
and walked out into the darkness. Calmly, Nelson crossed the street
and ducked into the leafy shadows of Centennial Park. He kept close
to the trees, avoiding the lighted walkways. It took him only a
minute to reach the immaculate white bandstand. It was a huge,
circular structure typical of the antebellum architecture of that
area. The covered stage stood in a grove of blossoming magnolia
trees, away from the reach of the nearest streetlamp.
Nelson approached the bandstand. He began to
walk around its enclosed base. The note had said to leave the money
beneath the platform, yet he could find no way to do so. The wood
skirting around the sturdy floor gave no access to the